


An Alternate Discorporation

by Whoviana2



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 13:36:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20706869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoviana2/pseuds/Whoviana2
Summary: What if when Aziraphale was discorporated, instead of being destroyed, his body had remained there- for Crowley to find?





	An Alternate Discorporation

“Oh, fuck.” Aziraphale swore as he was pushed into the circle.

There was a flash of light so bright that Shadwell was forced to cover his eyes. Which was fortunate, because had he witnessed what happened next, it wouldn’t have gone well for him. Perhaps he would’ve been driven mad, but honestly that would be a rather short drive.

Aziraphale collapsed, and from the corporeal form rose an entity that could most easily- though not quite accurately- described as being composed of light. If anyone had been unlucky enough or foolish enough to see this, they would have been able to make out feathers and eyes through the blinding light, but very little else. This figure disappeared after only a few moments.

The body remained where it was as Shadwell fled, knocking over a candle.

\---

To say that Crowley parked the Bentley outside the bookshop would be a little too generous. It was more that it stopped because it dared not move any farther than Crowley wanted.

Crowley barely addressed the firefighters who all of a sudden decided not to stop him from entering. He had one focus. He’d had only one focus for six millenia, really, but now that object of that focus was in danger. He ran inside and pushed over blazing shelves, searching for his friend and shouting his name.

“Aziraphale!?” He called one more time. Then his voice broke as he saw it. An empty body on the floor in a tartan bowtie. The flames had not touched the body, or a radius around it about two inches wide.

Crowley fell to his knees without really realizing it. The flames caught his trousers and his sleeves. This he noticed, but he didn’t care. What was there to care about now? He was dead.

His angel was dead.

He didn’t bother to extinguish the flames. He removed his sunglasses slowly and dropped them unceremoniously and undramatically. The flames began to consume them and they started melting.

Crowley didn’t even have the energy to scream anymore. He just stared at Aziraphale as the flames climbed his clothing, and slowly crept towards what had once been his angel. 

In a corner of the room, in a small area that hadn’t quite burned yet, he noticed something. The book. The book the bike woman had left. The book Aziraphale had been so preoccupied with.

The time it took for him to convince himself to move felt like a century, but it was probably more like thirty seconds. He picked up the book and patted out the flame on the corner. He still had not offered the same courtesy to his own clothing, which by now was not the only thing burning, as had become evident from the smell.

He held the book close to his chest. As much as he just wanted to sit down and burn, he knew it wouldn’t solve anything. For one, all that would do would get him back to Hell. 

And Earth would still be destroyed.

And Aziraphale hadn’t wanted that.

So Crowley wouldn’t let it happen.

As soon as he made that decision, he finally noticed the searing pain. He was knocked down before he could finish standing by a blast of water from a firehose, and was halfway thankful because at least he wasn’t on fire anymore. He held the book close and left the building as it collapsed behind him, almost as if the walls had been waiting for permission.

Crowley had decided to save the world.

\---

He’d only been back in Heaven long enough to ask if he could reenter the body he’d used for six thousand years, and then he’d left to do just that. Aziraphale opened his eyes and pushed off the debris that had fallen on him, then gasped quietly when he saw the rest of the scene. Most of the room had collapsed and was on fire. Everything that wasn’t burning was charred and wet from firehoses.

The angel stood carefully, looking around for the book. There was still time, if he could find it. He didn’t find the book, but he did find something.

A pair of melted sunglasses.

As he looked at them, he realized something else. He felt something. 

He felt love. 

A love so strong, and so anguished, that it was almost tangible, so strong that he could sense where the source had gone.

So he followed it.

\---

Crowley was sitting in the Bentley, parked outside a local pub, holding the book and staring at its cover, thinking. Questioning his decision. Was there much point? Why not just get drunk until the end of the world? Wouldn’t that be easier?

Aziraphale would disapprove, he knew. But the angel was back in Heaven now, and they weren’t going to let him go back to Earth now that they’d figured out what was going on. They might even destroy him. So did it matter what Aziraphale would think?

Crowley hissed. “Fuck.” There wasn’t any good option now. No matter what, without Aziraphale, either Earth would be destroyed, or Crowley would be destroyed; most likely both.

He sighed as got out of the car, intending to drink himself into armageddon.

“Crowley! Crowley!”

The demon looked up when he heard his name and he froze.

Running clumsily toward him in a slightly singed tartan bowtie was Aziraphale.

“Crowley, do you have the book?”

He just nodded, unable to speak.

“Then what are you still doing here? Hurry up, we have to get to Tadfield!”

Crowley finally got his words back. “Angel, how are you here? You were-”

“Discorporated, yes, terribly annoying. Fortunately, everyone up in Heaven is in a real tizzy at the moment what with the war preparations and everything, so I was able to get back rather quickly. Come on, get in the car.”

Crowley blinked and did so, opening the other door for his friend.

Aziraphale got in, shut the door, and opened the book. “Go!”

The demon began driving, but kept looking over at the angel. “Wait, how did you find me?”

Aziraphale laughed softly. “Ah, yes, that. Well, it was very strange actually. I followed your love.”

“You what.” Crowley stared at him.

“Watch the road! I followed your love. You know angels can sense love. Yours was so much stronger than usual, because you were so upset, so I was able to follow it.”

“Stronger than… usual…” Crowley frowned.

“Oh, yes. For a long, long time now I’ve been able to sense it on you. I’ve been wondering when you’d say something about it. I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Bit late for that now I suppose, hmm?”

Crowley looked back at the road in silence.

Aziraphale had known. The whole time.

And he hadn’t left. He’d still helped.

A smile crept onto Crowley’s lips.

“I thought I went too fast for you, angel?” He glanced at him with a smirk.

“I think I can go a little faster.” Aziraphale smiled back.


End file.
